I love that poem, Cally. What all of you have said feels right. There's no war to fight here, or at least not one worth fighting as far as I can see.
I suspect most things equal out, and just as the perils of past and present are more or less as perilous, the jeremiads of then and now are roughly equal, too. To me MFA programs are like fabulous beasts drawn at the edges of old maps -- maybe they swallow people alive, maybe they guard shining treasures that are bestowed upon the worthy: I couldn't say for sure. But in the old days there were fewer people and not as many could read. They lived hard and not as long. It's always something that mucks up the chance for poetry to happen, or that we let muck it up. I'm heartened to hear poets and friends I respect hold forth, and I don't think we should ignore the problems of today, but the bottom line is to give it our best. There's a line from Roethke: 'I fear those shadows most that start from my own feet.'
Ed
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